


I Wish I’d Done Everything on Earth With You

by chess_and_politics



Category: Chess - Rice/Ulvaeus/Andersson
Genre: I stand behind Freddy having a Major sweet tooth while Anatoly has None, M/M, This can be taken as a continuance of the last fic I payed but it’s not required reading, a little dancing around freddy’s past bc Anatoly Does Not Know, freddy continues to be trans, the boys are baking!!!!, this is just. fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25542076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chess_and_politics/pseuds/chess_and_politics
Summary: Anatoly decides to teach Freddy how to bake.(Title quote from The Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald)
Relationships: Anatoly Sergievsky/Frederick Trumper
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	I Wish I’d Done Everything on Earth With You

Anatoly doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. He didn’t grow up with much sugar, and he doesn’t find himself drawn to candies or desserts or pastries. However, he has a… partner? companion? ...He has Freddy, and Freddy _loves_ sweets, so he’s willing to indulge in it long enough to help the American bake something.

Living with the other man has taught him a few things, one of which is that Freddy cannot be trusted to prepare non-instant foods by himself. Anatoly didn’t mind cooking, he quickly learned, and quietly took over meal prep. It wasn’t as good as Svetlana’s cooking, and certainly nowhere near his mother’s, but both men enjoyed it. 

The first few times Anatoly made dinner, Freddy had seemed confused. He had eaten it, and obviously liked it well enough to not complain, but he spent so much of their silent meal poking at the food on his plate and glancing around his kitchen. It wasn’t even anything that should be foreign to the American, but it was like he had never seen his kitchen used to cook.

Now, though, Anatoly had decided that a nice date would be teaching Freddy how to bake something. After all, neither of them were all that fond of venturing out into public nor wanted to risk any press attention. He had made sure the kitchen was clean, then prepared it for baking. He wasn’t all that experienced with baking, personally, but he figured it wouldn’t be _that_ hard. It was just cookies. He had purchased the ingredients in anticipation of that evening and set them out on the counter, ready for use. Then all that was left was getting Freddy out to the kitchen, which was done easily enough. Even if he acted cold, Anatoly knew Freddy enjoyed his company.

“So what’s all this?” Freddy asked as they entered the kitchen.

Anatoly hugged him from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “You like sweets. I thought we could bake some.”

“You mean burn some?” Freddy asked with a snort. “We both know I suck at making food.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “That’s why I’m here. I have a recipe. Chocolate chip.”

“Alright,” he said. He managed to turn himself around to steal a kiss from the Russian, curling an arm around his neck. “You know,” he drawled, “if you keep spoiling me with nice cooking and baking like this, I don’t know how I’m gonna go on when you find an apartment.”

“Mm, you’ll find a way. You’re clever,” Anatoly murmured, smoothing a hand up his chest. He chose to keep quiet about the fact that he had abandoned the apartment search well over a month ago. Freddy always made his intentions clear, and he showed no intent of making Anatoly move out. And if Freddy didn’t want him gone, he saw no reason to leave. Splitting rent was cheaper, anyways.

“So. Cookies?” Freddy asked.

Anatoly nodded and let go of Freddy. “Yes, I have the recipe. We take this bowl here, and add flour, baking soda, and salt.”

“What in the goddamn fuck is baking soda??” Freddy asked, looking over the assortment of ingredients on the table.

“It’s….” Anatoly picked a box up. “This. We need one teaspoon.” Freddy gave him another confused look. Anatoly handed him the teaspoon. “This. You just scoop, level it out, and dump it in the bowl.” He knew Freddy wasn’t good with making food, but this was a different level.

Freddy nodded and carefully stuck it in the box, scooped, and withdrew the heaping teaspoon. “How do I… level it out?” He asked hesitantly.

Anatoly gently curled his hand over Freddy’s, resting the other on the man’s waist, and slid the teaspoon back into the box. “Just tap it against the side of the box like this,” he said, moving Freddy’s hand to tap the teaspoon. “And then when you take it out, slide it like this against the top of the opening to smooth it out.” When they withdrew the teaspoon, , it was properly filled. Anatoly smiled. “See? Good job.”

Freddy let out a shaky breath and smiled. “Dunno why you’re saying good job, you did all the work.”

He winked. “A little encouragement never hurt anyone. Now, just dump it into the bowl.”

He did. “...I don’t see how this is gonna make anything tasty.”

“Be patient,” Anatoly said, pecking his cheek. “Now we need a teaspoon of salt. Table salt, I’ve already got the top off.”

“I can just use this again?” Freddy asked, holding the teaspoon up.

He nodded. “It’s no big deal.”

Freddy picked up the salt shaker and took a scoop of salt. He tapped the spoon against the inside of the shaker, then withdrew the spoon. “Into the bowl?”

“Fast learner,” Anatoly said with a smile. “It goes into the bowl.” Freddy dumped it. Anatoly held up his large measuring cup filled with flour. “Now it needs 3 cups of flour. I’ve already got one.”

“That’s a fucking cup?” Freddy asked. “It’s not just like one you drink out of? That’s dumb.”

“It’s a standard of measurement,” Anatoly replied. “Your American ones are pretty dumb. So needlessly different.” He poured the first cup of flour in and scooped another. “I didn’t have any bad habits to break, I suppose. I didn’t cook at home, I imagine Svetlana is having a harder time with this.”

Freddy scrunched his nose up. “I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about your ex wife on dates.”

He dumped the second cup and scooped the third. “What, it’s not a turn on?” He teased. “My apologies, I’ll change the subject.” Once the last cup was in, he handed a mixing spoon to Freddy. “Alright. Stir it up.”

He took the spoon and stuck it in the bowl. “Just stir it?” 

“Just stir it.” Anatoly unwrapped the sticks of butter and dropped them into another bowl. “I’ll prepare the more difficult part of the recipe.” He measured & added the sugar, then picked up another mixing spoon to combine the ingredients. “So, you’ve never baked before? At all?”

Freddy shook his head. “No. Never had an interest.”

“Ah.” He nods, mashing the butter into the sugar. “My mother showed me, when I was a child. She would let my brother and I help sometimes.”

“You have a brother?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do. We didn’t talk much, once he moved out. Now we just don’t talk.”

“I can’t imagine having siblings,” Freddy said, letting the spoon in his hand fall to a rest against the side of the bowl with a satisfying _thunk_. “I think I’d hate them, if I had one.”

“So you are an only child, then.” This was the first time they’d ever broached the topic of families. It had Anatoly on edge. “I always wondered.”

Freddy’s lips twitched. “Yeah. Pretty sure my parents would’ve preferred no children, but here I am.”

All of Anatoly’s instincts were screaming for him to not venture down that path. Not yet. He listened, for once, and continued quietly creaming the butter and sugar. “I’m glad you’re here. Otherwise I’d have no real competition across the board.”

“You’d have Viigand around,” Freddy said, a little more relaxed. 

He laughed slightly. “I did say _real_ competition, Freddy. Are you done with that?”

“Hell if I know, it’s all white,” he said with a shrug. “I tried.”

“Let me finish this up then, and we can mix them together.” Anatoly cracked the eggs into his bowl and stirred them in, then grabbed the vanilla extract. He opened the bottle and filled a teaspoon up to add to the mixture.

Freddy raised an eyebrow. “What’s that? It smells good.”

“Vanilla extract,” Anatoly said, adding the teaspoon of vanilla to the bowl. “It does smell wonderful.”

Freddy picked the bottle up and smelled it again. As Anatoly began stirring, he grabbed the teaspoon and poured some into it.

“What are you doing?” Anatoly asked.

“I’m gonna try some of it,” Freddy said, setting the bottle of vanilla down.

Anatoly glances up at him. “I really wouldn’t recommend that, you’ll be disappointed.”

“I think you’re lying, and this is gonna be delicious.” Freddy put the teaspoon in his mouth. His eyes went wide and he gagged.

“I told you,” Anatoly said, amused. He finished stirring and watched as Freddy tried to rinse his mouth out in the sink.

He spat and gargled more water, flipping Anatoly off. Anatoly smiled and began adding the flour mixture to his bowl. Freddy finally returned to the table. “That was miserable.”

“I did that too, when I was younger,” Anatoly said. “We’re almost ready to add the chocolate chips.”

“The cookies aren’t gonna taste like _that_ , are they?” Freddy asked.

“They won’t, I promise. It’s much better as a part of a recipe. We just add the full bag of chocolate chips, would you like to do the honors?”

Freddy grabbed the bag and tore it open, pouring it into the bowl. He grabbed a few and ate them. “Do we mix them in?”

Anatoly handed him the spoon. “Yes.”

Freddy worked at the dough, doing his best to stir the chocolate chips in. As he mixed, Anatoly moved behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“See? You can make food,” Anatoly murmured.

Freddy continued mixing the batter, tilting his head to rest against Anatoly’s. “You spoil me, you really do.”

“I helped you make cookies, that’s hardly spoiling.” He nipped at Freddy’s earlobe. “Unless you’re not referring to right now~.”

“You’re so damn patient,” Freddy said. “That’s what I meant, you’re not judging me for being dumb.”

He frowned. “You’re not dumb.”

“I didn’t know what a teaspoon is. Or how to measure ingredients.”

“I wouldn’t fault you for something you haven’t learned,” Anatoly said. He hesitated, then added, “Your mother didn’t cook very much, did she?”

Freddy paused. “No,” he said, resuming his stirring. “Not that I can remember.”

Anatoly filed that away. Freddy kept so much of his past a secret, or maybe Anatoly wasn’t asking the right questions. He was trying to remember everything he could. He pecked Freddy’s cheek. “It looks ready.”

“It does? Alright,” he said, letting go of the spoon. “What now?”

“Now we can taste it,” Anatoly replied, reluctantly untangling himself from Freddy. He used a finger to scoop a bit of dough and offered it to the other man.

Freddy raised an eyebrow. “You want me to eat it off your finger?”

“Oh, shush, your mouth has done far dirtier things. Just try it.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and took Anatoly’s hand, hesitantly sucking the cookie dough off his finger. “God, that felt so weirdly kinky,” he said. “Tastes good, though.”

He smiled. “Good. Now we have to scoop it and bake them.” He walked over and turned the oven on. “We’ll let that heat up.” As he passed by Freddy, the other man reached out and grabbed his hand.

“How long do these take to cook?”

Anatoly glanced at the recipe. “About ten minutes. Why?”

“Because you’re being stupidly hot, and I want you, but I don’t want the cookies to burn.”

“Oh?” He smiled and drew Freddy close to him. “We’ll see what we can squeeze in.” He kissed him tenderly, then released him. “Now, let’s scoop them.” Anatoly moves the bowl next to the tray and picked the spoon up.

Freddy grabbed another spoon and helped him. “These are gonna be tiny cookies.”

“They’ll grow as they cook,” Anatoly responded. Once the tray was filled with properly spaced cookies, he carried it over to the oven, opened the door, and slid the tray in. He closed the door and set the timer, then turned back to Freddy. “Alright, let’s clean up what we can while those cook.”

Freddy put all the utensils into the now-empty flour bowl and set it next to the sink to be washed. Anatoly, meanwhile, had begun putting ingredients away.

“Thank you, darling,” he murmured, catching Freddy in a kiss. Freddy curled an arm around him. When they broke from the kiss, he asked, “So, this was a success?”

“Depends on how the cookies turn out,” he replied with a grin. 

“We’ll know soon, they’re almost done,” he said. He kissed Freddy again. “...Did you enjoy it? Really?”

He nodded. “It was cute. And different. I had fun.” He pecked Anatoly’s cheek. “And maybe we can have some more _fun_ tonight.”

“When we get the next batch in,” Anatoly promised. He opened the oven and checked the cookies, pulling them out and setting them on the stovetop. “Please don’t touch these or try to eat them yet, you’ll burn yourself.”

“Alright, alright,” Freddy said with a small laugh. “I’m not dumb enough to try and grab something that hot.”

“You’re not dumb at all. But after the vanilla….”

He rolled his eyes. “It smelled nice, and I’m weak for sugar.”

Anatoly smiled. “Oh, is that why you indulge in so many kisses?” He teased.

Freddy stuck his tongue out. “Not answering that.”

“Then I’ll take it as a yes~” Anatoly murmured, scooping cookies off the tray. “We’ll let these cool over here,” he said. “Let’s scoop the next tray.”

He walked back over to the table and helped Freddy prepare the next tray, and slid it into the oven. After he set the timer, he leaned in and pecked his cheek. 

“Mm, shall we?” He asked.

Freddy glanced over at the cookies. “Are those cool enough yet?”

“They might be, are you wanting to try one?” 

Freddy nodded, and Anatoly guided him over to the stovetop to pick a cookie out. He picked one up and took a bite, immediately trying to finish it as fast as possible.

Anatoly raised an eyebrow. “That good, or that bad?”

He just nodded, wiping the crumbs from his mouth as he chewed & swallowed. “Is it weird that knowing you can cook makes you even hotter?”

He laughed and pulled Freddy close. “I don’t think so,” he said, leaning in for another kiss. Just before their lips connected, he pulled away and took a few steps back. “We’ve still got about seven minutes, if we hurry.”

“Then let’s hurry,” Freddy said, following him back to the bedroom.

(The batch of cookies was taken out on time, and the rest of the cookie dough baked up, even though both men’s interest had shifted from baked goods to bedroom activities. Anatoly chalked the experience up to a complete win and considered it one _definitely_ worth repeating.)


End file.
